


Finding the Love of Your Life in a Closet (When the Rest of the World is On Fire)

by notoriousjae



Series: Tumblr Prompts (Gone Wild) [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Arranged Marriage, F/F, F/M, Polygamy, Serious Crack, almost sex in a closet, exploded nations, for either of them, frat party, no metaphorical gay closet, only getting married because of unfortunate family expectations, sex not in a closet, there is a lot of mon-el in this, they are engaged but it's not quite what you think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 11:40:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14212353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoriousjae/pseuds/notoriousjae
Summary: Kara Danvers, last daughter of a decimated country and freshman extraordinaire, is very unhappily dragged to a college frat party late one Friday afternoon. What happens when she meets, maybe falls in love with, and sleeps with Cat Grant (senior and editor of the college paper) after being trapped in a closet with her for the majority of the night?It might be smooth sailing if Kara wasn't engaged via arranged marriage to her (best) childhood friend...and prince of the country they fled before said decimation, Mon-El of Daxam.Oops.(Supercat college AU)





	Finding the Love of Your Life in a Closet (When the Rest of the World is On Fire)

**Author's Note:**

> For **Coramvobis**.
> 
> Prompt from my [Tumblr](http://begonefoulsoftdrink.tumblr.com): "YOU WANT AN AU SUPERCAT PROMPT??? how about college!au with cat and kara. cat being a senior, kara being a freshmen, and tHEY MET THRU SOME STUPID HOUSE PARTY, GOT DRUNK, AND THEN HOOK UP??? (plot twist, kara cheated on some ugly high school manchild that she was dating - or not idk your views on cheating)"
> 
> This is not the prompt you likely expected, nor probably the one you were looking for, but it's the one you got, fam. 
> 
> All Kryptonian translations are at the end.

**_“When you leave this country, you’ll be…capable of wonderful, wonderful things, Kara Zor-El. Our two houses might have torn our nations apart, but my daughter—the last daughter of Rao…you and Mon-El of Daxam, you will create a new house, together. But never forget, my dear. Never forget the light you have inside of you.”_ **

Those were the last words her mother ever spoke to her, the screaming of a dying war of a country that pushed a twelve year old girl to her knees, Kryptonian and Daxam sounding through the halls all around them. Her mother’s fingers cupped her cheeks, the light of the sun setting on Rao, their beautiful country that was small and torn from the inside out by a war between the Kryptonians and the Daxamites for as long as she could remember.

It was supposed to end. It was supposed to end with them.

“ _Ieiu—_ ” She’d begged, her hands grasping towards the sun, the necklace around her neck catching the light from a nearby explosion as a young boy lifted her into his arms, struggling against her strength and determination to choose her _family_ over her _duty_.

“ _Je_!” Astra’s voice carried from the hallway, a gun tucked at her hip as the royal guard scrambled to get the council to safety, but there was no use. Her father tucked up a gun, himself, both of them heading towards the windows, defending the last few members of their house against the slow ascension of Rhea and Lar Gand, troops behind them as they advanced on the mansion.

That was the last time she saw them. Her aunt and mother on either side of Zor-El as all of them raised up their guns in symbol, fighting for freedom and democracy against the aristocracy they were born into.

 **"Zyv!"** Zor-El's voice boomed through the mansion like the explosions around them.

All of the soldiers behind them chanted with them, creating a chorus of loss and hope, raising their guns up with a holler. Once. Twice. Thrice. All of their voices filled the once-bright halls with a shrill cry of undying determination:

_Zyv. Zyv. Zyv!_

The House of El would not go down without a fight. 

Mon-El chose her, then, despite his parent’s wishes, a promise hanging around his neck.

“Kara!” It was snapped—harsh—full of gravel and tears. He smelled like grass and gunpowder and the alcohol he’d spent their youth trying to get her to sip with him. “Kara, for once stop trying to—stop! Stop fighting! We have to go!”

She collapsed in his arms, strong as they wrapped around her from behind, his youthful cry burning tears down her back as she scratched towards the dirt, the last image either of them had of their homes—of their promise—of the mansion exploding in a hail fire of bullets as they ran down the hills far from the sprawling buildings of Argo City, a forgotten metropolis buried underneath tall tales to the rest of the world.

No one quite believed the land of Rao existed and they never would.

Screams filled the night air as the sun set on the nation of Rao for the last time.

Their fingers twined as they ran until their lungs seared despite (or because of) the charging force chasing after them, the Daxamites determined to see the prince returned and the girl he was to wed slaughtered so that the feuding home of Krypton would never raise, again.

The stars rose and the shouting and firing stopped when the two small forms scrambled the rest of the way up the mountain, near the hills. The thought that it was _over_ was short-lived and naïve when a larger explosion sounded, prince and justicar’s daughter’s breaths panting in their chests when a brilliant flash lit up the night sky. The shock of it sent both of them tumbling to dirt, Mike’s body flopping over to restlessly cover her as dust filled their mouths and gravel clung to their stained, torn shirts. Kara managed to stumble upwards first, offering her hand down to a trembling palm, wide eyes taking in the ruins of the city cleared from a force that rocked the mountains, themselves, a bomb of such a great size dropped on the towers that there would be _no one_ left, Daxamite or Kryptonian. Stragglers, maybe.

Refugees, by the end of the night.

As Astra had prophesized and no one had listened—a fact Kara would not truly understand for years—the war cost the lives of all, save for two (and a third young man far removed from any of them, a hidden secret of a Bastard from an old line of rule).

Alone in the hills, the last two of a lineage left standing and their country decimated, Kara Zor-El and Mon-El of Daxam wept, their rings hanging from their necks as they huddled together in a small cave.  Mon-El wrapped up Kara’s shaking, small body with the weight of his own like how they’d always done since they were children and it was then, underneath the gasping listlessness of tears that had dried on young cheeks, that shaking fingers slid a ring onto her thumb, a vow not dying on her lips.

“We will not let them die in vain, Mon-El. We won’t.”

Exhausted and battered—bruised—his knuckles full of cuts and his heart full of wounds time won’t heal, Mon-El snored as he tugged her closer, burying a grunt of exhaustion in her shoulder.

She’ll listen to her mother—they’ll flee to another country. To another life. They’ll make a difference in the world—stop war where their country couldn’t—and they’ll marry.

They’ll carry on the line of their homes, a young twelve year old girl decided then and there, full of dirt and blood and tears, resolve overwhelming her strangling urge to cry.

She was, after all, her mother’s daughter.

They’ll change the world, happiness be damned.

\--

“Ah, ah, ah—” Mike snatches her hand up and boldly tugs off the thinnest emerald band tucked around her thumb and Kara’s eyes widen, their engagement ring hoisted as a hostage between them.

“M-Mike, come on, you can’t—”

“Stop being such a Kryptonian.” His voice is harsh but his eyes are _pleading_ , tucking up her chin in a way that makes her huff through her nose, “Honor, values, prudishness, I get it. Woo. Yay.”

“I’m not a _pru—_ ”

“You need. To learn. How to have. Fun.” He enunciates every word with a slosh of his drink and Kara barely manages to catch it before he drops it on her bed, eyes lingering on the glint of a band he holds in his thumb. She’s glad to see that it’s with a little more reverence that he unclasps the necklace hanging over his neck and slides the green swirl onto it before once more clasping silver underneath his hairline, hanging over his heart, watching as their rings slot together over the dip of his neck. “We’re engaged. I get it. We didn’t choose it, you get that, too. So go out there and please— _please_ —have a little fun, okay? I’m not saying this as your totally handsome _zrh ymin, _I’m saying this as your best friend, ball and chain.”

“Mike…” She sighs, eyes darting down to the ground because he’s always been able to look outside of their little union, but she—she _can’t_ —

“I’m not saying go looking for it, Kara. But…come on. Not everything in life is…duty and responsibility and trying to honor our shitty parents’ memories. It’s a college party. I’m—” He inelegantly points towards himself, smirking, “Going to go get laid.” She winces, ignoring the sharp gasp of pain that settled in her stomach long ago before turning away, “And you…are going to have some fun. Okay?”

“Okay.” She looks back down at her book. A moment passes. “ _Or_ , I can finish my homework—”

“Nope! Stop being such a loser,” He snatches it up and holds it high above her head and, to his testament, manages to keep holding it even when she roughly elbows him in the stomach, best friend doubling over in pain but curling around the book like a football, something he has far more experience with. “Oww. God. Domestic violence.” She gets ready to smack him with her free hand when he holds up his own in surrender, reluctantly snaking out the book. “Kar’, you’ve been here for a year and haven’t left your classes.”

“And I’m almost through with my sophomore year because of it.” She’s eighteen and not about to be talked to like a child, but that doesn’t keep her from talking to _Mike_ like he’s one. Because he is. A giant man-baby. “Come on, you’re acting like I don’t have friends. People—I am—hey, I’m _likable_ and…and adorable. Or something, and—Eve!” She tries. “Tell him!”

Her roommate just grunts an acknowledgment from her side of the room, not looking up from her magazine. “Yep. Totally likable.”

“Yeah. Everyone knows you. As the kind girl who always helps them when they need it and can’t get her head out of her books.” Mike rolls over onto her bed, wagging his eyebrows at her roommate--who wisely rolls her eyes--and Kara hits him in the stomach with her textbook again for good measure, maybe taking a _little_ too much joy out of the noise he makes when he groans. “Please.”

Her grip slackens on the book when he scoots closer, far gentler when fingers curve around her wrists. Softer, barely a whisper: “Mon-El….”

“Kara, there’s more to life than just…books and always pushing yourself too hard. I get you want to help people. I do. It’s the most infuriating and best thing about you, but you have to help yourself sometimes, too. Come with me. Please. Pretty please. Super please. Meet me there.”

It’s the fourth please that does it, she swears, and before she knows why, she’s walking with him towards a frat house in the same clothes (she refused to change; it’s not like she’s coming here for the same reason Mike is) nerves curling up her throat. He runs off halfway through with a pointed look for her to still show.

A frat party. A college frat party. People dancing and laughing and socializing and…partying.

She can _totally_ do this.

\--

_Mon-El is old enough to emancipate himself—fifteen, an adult in a small, lanky body with hair that doesn’t quite grow, Kara thirteen and quiet—but it’s impossible to take care of both of them, no matter how hard they try. They manage to stow away on a boat to America, small bodies shivering and huddling and sneaking food from ships, until Kara manages to get state-side and it takes them two months, their clothes tattered and irredeemable by the end of it, for them to finally track down Kal-El._

_Clark holds her so tightly that she thinks her bones might break, tearful reunion tucking up the sagging sigh of Mike’s lips, their native tongue tasting heavier underneath the loss of their families as they huddled in a small apartment. Clark had thought she was dead—the whole world thought she was dead—and it was undeniable that some people still wanted to see the last line of Alura In-Ze and Zor-El spread across asphalt in lines of red, even if young Kara wanted nothing to do with the throne of a land that was suddenly ash. It was the morals her mother held so dear—the idea of **freedom** —her mother’s caring heart so strong that people across countries would track down even the remnants of it to see it erased._

_Clark is in college—editor for his school’s paper—and is ill-equipped to protect her from death threats and even less equipped to keep Mon-El from being dragged kicking and screaming towards the prison of ruin that is their homeland._

_So that’s how Kara wound up with a foster family an hour from her cousin’s small dorm, Mon-El staying with them for only a month before he left on his own. Their letters were frequent, rings hanging down the burden on their shoulders, and there was never too much time between them before one—or the other—snuck away to find each other underneath moonlight. Soon, war became a faint memory underneath the sound of Alex’s laughter and a school that never knew what it meant for a girl to come from a royal line that wanted to revolutionize the world with democracy. But faint memories are never far, and it always came alive underneath the brush of Mike’s knuckles by her ear, watching moonlight catch along the glint of his ring. His mouth was always rough but he was always too gentle—his eyes were always distracted but he was always loving in smiles—and his loyalties always lay with her, even if she knew other girls occupied his bed._

_Marriage, Astra had once told her, was a matter of convenience, not of love._

_Kara clung to it._

\--

The whole house is shaking with music and suddenly she wishes Eve wasn’t packing up shop to go away this weekend, because she could really use some moral support. Or at least her roommate’s infallible sense of optimism; Kara is told she usually has it in _spades_ , but for some reason she doesn’t find it here. 

“Kara,” Mon-El hoots when he spots her, bumping into someone far less-dressed, eyes already lingering and Kara’s own close, breath catching against the edges of her mouth, pointedly looking away from the spectacle. But his hand curls around her shoulder and she leans into it—leans into him—leans into the scent of alcohol and too much aftershave and familiarity of a charming smile that sets her nerves at ease, but sets every other girl in the house’s on fire. It’s how it’s always been, comfort where fire should be. But maybe they had enough fire in their early lives to balance it out. “Uh, uh, no way—” He tightens arms around her like she’s a second away from bolting (which she totally isn’t. Right now). “You gotta live a little, babe. Come on—”

“Mike…” She sighs, but lets him tug her backwards in through the house—in towards the raging boom of life all around them—head shaking fondly as he starts to hop up and down on his feet like a boxer.

“Ka-rah. Ka-rah. Ka-rahh—”

Oh, great, he’s trying to give her a rallying cry. People, drunk, around them, start cheering her name, too.

“Stop it,” It’s a groan, reaching forward to shove his shoulder, which he rolls down in towards her, catching her lips in a swift peck before twirling them around and all but shoving her into the building with a swat to her ass.

The sound of her yelping is lost when he runs inside and the whole building cheers his name, instead.

Right. King of parties.

That’s her future husband. King of his family line doing a line of shots off of the table, roaring in triumph as someone dumps water on his head.

Yep. (Their country was probably doomed underneath both of their guidance, anyways).

“Welp, Kara.” It’s a heavensward sigh, already resigning herself to her fate as dozens of hollers chant her fiance’s name, shoulders slinking downwards as she makes her way further into the crowd, apologizing as she ducks underneath cups and arms and dancing (grinding) bodies, hands coming up to cup her ears from the thrumming base that shakes the whole fraternity house. “Time to make some new friends.” Fingers try at doors as she goes, hoping to win the lottery and _not_ find someone inside. She knows this part as well as the back of her hand and somewhere across the house, she’s pretty sure she can hear a chorus of people yelling _Mike_ and _Chug_ in repetition, as she Chase's down hope. Finally, she manages to slide into a guest bedroom that is miraculously unlocked, closing the door on the persistent _thud thud thud_ in the back of her skull. “With the wall.”

That's when she notices the people on the bed who decidedly do _not_ notice her and she stumbles out of the room—oh, _eww_ —and rushes across the hall, apology dying on her lips.

And then she sees it, a small little refuge across the way and she manages to make it across the sea of mangled _fraternizations_ to triumphantly skip into the small little space of an unoccupied closet. Finally, a chance to pretend like she's socializing while she tugs out tbe book from her purse. It’s when she looks up that she sees someone _else_ intently ducking cups but the other girl doesn’t seem to duck fast enough, getting jostled by a large jock with a shoulder that sends her careening towards Kara.

Kara, who opens her mouth to warn the girl to _look out_ a little too late, and the other girl, who strings together a line of creative expletives lost underneath the music that might make a sailor blush—

_Oof._

So that’s how a small little ball of heeled fury all but tackles the freshman (sophomore) into the depths of the small little room in an elegant whirlwind. But the elegancy of said whirlwind is no match for Kara Danvers’ clumsiness, their bodies colliding, and Kara barely manages to catch the small form and tug her close out of reflex, flipping them both so that she lands on her back with a crunching, sputtering _gasp_ as all of the air in her lungs tumbles up into the air, the door smacking shut behind them from Kara’s grasping, desperate free hand trying to find purchase.

_Oww._

The girl makes a point of scrambling up, elbowing Kara in the stomach as she does, and there goes Kara’s wind for the second time.

“What the hell do you think you’re—”

“Oww.” It’s a groan from the floor, wincing with another gasp as Kara reaches behind her to pull out her purse, the book there making a pretty painful bed for her to lay on, lodged into her side. The music drowns out the faint sound of rattling as the small girl starts smacking on the closet door with impatient hands, Kara blinking as she slowly sits up on elbows to take in her surroundings.

“Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me!” The girl snaps—yells—jiggling and wrestling with the handle for a few more seconds. It’s a small closet space, but it’s big enough to be a walk in—for Kara to uncomfortably sprawl on the floor, head resting against the wall as she catches her breath—and coats line the walls, hangers, and floor with no rhyme or reason. The light filters in through slats in the door, enough for Kara to adjust her glasses and see the silhouette of the other girl obscuring it, and Kara eventually scrambles up behind her, nursing her slightly-wounded side as she does.

It reminds her of the time in New York City when Mike had almost been mugged and Kara scrambled to rescue him (scrappy and small and full of so much anger that she would have taken on the world if she could), both of them managing to ward off their attackers but Kara hadn’t been able to breathe without wincing for a month. To the point where Clark is still ginger along her side, anytime he sees her.

From the effectiveness of that elbow, Kara's pretty sure they could have used this girl in that scuffle.

The thought of Clark causes her to fish out her phone with a groan because of _course_ they’re in the middle of a signal black hole.

“No signal. Is it locked?” Her breath sucks in, blinking, and the shorter girl whirls around to level Kara with a stare so impressive that she stumbles backwards, nearly knocking off half of the coats from the wall in the process. “I’ll…I’ll take that as a yes?” It’s practically a yelp and the girl huffs through her nose, Kara nervously shuffling the glasses on her nose, now, already straight on her face. “Sorry?”

She has no clue why she’s apologizing since the other girl is the one that pushed in here and knocked her onto the floor. Maybe because Kara had grabbed the door on the way down, trying to catch them both.

But it’s not like she locked it.

“You should be. I can’t believe this. This was supposed to be my night out—my first night out in months and _aggggh_ —” A small foot kicks the door for good measure, the wood rattling with no purchase against the relentless assault and Kara gulps, eyes adjusting behind slim frames. She’s shorter than her and Kara can barely see the light from the hall highlight gold locks. It’s hair that must have been perfect prior to their little fall, and the outfit (what must be a meticulously-chosen dress of black and blue hues) leaves little to the imagination in a way that makes Kara look away for a breath. Which is good, because the other girl is suddenly looking at her again with a gaze that is utterly _uncompromising_ and it would have been pretty awkward for Kara to be caught staring so intently at her ass. “Do you have a credit card?”

“What? I—no?” A blink, looking back up, taking in slitting dark eyes that are covered by a few loose curls of hair, not sure what a credit card would do for them.

“Student ID?” Forging on, tone annoyed, “Do you even _go_ here? Since you look probably like…twelve. With that outfit.” It’s a huff and Kara shifts underneath the appraisal, scowling.

“What does a Student—”

“I need a card to break out. Slide through the lock. Unless you want to be stuck in here, all night.”

Kara thinks of her piles of paper cluttering her small dorm desk and assignments due two days from now and the thought of being stuck in _here_ all night with this girl before she rushes to the door with her and both of them start yelling for help through the slats.

\--

_Alex and Mike both tried to get her to branch out—to go to parties and dance with the people whose eyes always lingered a **little** too long—but her breath always caught, guilt catching in her chest._

_**“You’re not cheating on me if you just—”** _

_**“No, Mike.”** _

_**“For fuck’s sake, Kar! They’re gone. They’re gone when are you going to get it in your fucking head that—”** _

_It was an unspoken agreement between them, and Kara never had the heart to break it, because she was engaged to a Daxamite who changed more than she ever thought he could, but there was one area he never would._

_But that Daxamite was engaged to a Kryptonian, too, and where he only knew conquests, she only knew loyalty and she wanted him to look at her like she wishes she knew how to look at **him**._

_Like even if they weren’t pushed together by fate and obligation, there would have never been anyone in the world who could hold her so close—kiss her so fiercely—like theirs was a **romantic** tale, not one of **destruction**._

_Like they were in love._

_“ **I love him, Alex.** ” And Alex’s fingers brush through her hair—Alex’s fingers tuck up her necklace—Alex’s lips brush over her shoulder with a heavy sigh._

_Kara loves him._

_**“I love him.”** _

_She doesn’t know how to tell Alex that she doesn’t love him how she should._

\--

Eventually, they both wind up collapsing on the floor, the other girl—Cat, she’s learned in begrudging response to Kara’s own offer of a name—looking so down-trodden at the thought of having to sit on it, at all, that the young girl had thoughtlessly tugged off her cardigan and laid it out like a happy picnic blanket. Cat had looked surprised, but sat down, anyways, kicking off her heels with a sigh.

And that’s where they find themselves, sitting in awkward silence as the world dances all around them, staring down at their only exit with little hope.

“The party has to die down, eventually.” Cat grumbles, “I don’t have time for this.”

That’s the first thing Cat’s said that Kara’s agreed with. And she empathizes. So she asks:

“What do _you_ have due on Monday?”

Apparently, they’re both workaholics, which is pretty good. There’s something to be said for forging _some_ common ground, if they’re going to be stuck here all night, because that’s the first subject that unhinges Cat’s jaw all night.

“What about you? Since you apparently _do_ go here.”

And just like that, it becomes a little easier.

They talk about shared professors—about university—commiserate about their roommates and Kara finds out that Cat is a senior who somehow landed an RA room without the responsibilities this year. Though her ex-roommate (Lois Lane, one year older) sounds like a dragon with three heads, the way the smaller blonde describes her. 

“I think college is a lot like prison—you can get a lot by bartering.” Cat hums, eyebrows raising, “Olivia has a thing for pot brownies. Which makes sense, given the fact that she actually _wants_ to be a politician.”

Before long, they both stop actively looking for a way out and settle against the wall, instead, Cat stifling a laugh as she relays a story about an IT nerd in one of her classes getting stuck on the roof of the dormitories in his underwear and Kara realizes with a small hint of horror that it’s one of her friends, practically _guffawing_ in the small place, because no wonder why Winn gets so _nervous_ everytime he forgets his belt.

Cat looks surprised at the sound of her laugh and both of them share an easy smile, no clue how much time has passed.

“Wow, the party really isn’t going to die down, is it?” Kara sighs, head tipping back, and Cat lets out a commiserating noise.

“At least you didn’t waste an outfit. That one’s not much of anything.”

“Hey, I didn’t know I was coming. I got dragged here.”

“Uh-Huh.” Cat drawls, tone perking up at the edge in a clear tease and Kara boldly—gently—shoves her shoulder until the edges wobble enough to crack, a laugh spilling forth and she suddenly loves that sound. She would do a _lot_ to elicit that sound.

“I can clean up nicely, thank you very much.”

“That I’d like to see.”

“Challenge accepted.” Kara hums—beams—soft underneath the sound of Cat’s laugh still bouncing off of the small closet walls. “Next time I’m stuck in a frat party closet, boy you will eat your words, Cat. Just you watch.”

Their eyes meet and for a moment—just a moment—Kara forgets there’s music outside, at all.

“With baited breath.”

For some reason, Kara doesn’t mind being stuck in this one.

\--

_She was the one that kissed him, the first time, when they were young. She was eight and he was nine--almost ten in two days-- and he tasted like grass and she hadn’t known they’d sealed their fate, then._

_So it was only fair that she was the one who pushed him for more, too. Frustrated and furious and hurt, hands nervously wringing together like frayed knots, his shoulders slumped as he shirked off yet another job shift—slept with yet another woman—laughed at yet another chance of happiness that their parents gave him. He was eighteen and throwing his life away and Kara was chasing after him in years (fifteen going on sixteen going on a thousand) and wishing she could give him a world he wouldn’t want to run from._

_He was so furious with the world and she was the only thing he had left and instead of being furious, too, she clung to it—clung to her responsibility—fingers roughly tangling in the fabric of his shirt and tugging him down closer._

_Their mouths met in a sloppy, angry kiss and when he picked her up in his arms, she felt like she was falling, not flying, and her heart sunk into her stomach from the weight of her own lead shoulders, wrapping around his neck._

_He kissed her until she could barely breathe, pressing her back up against the wall of a room her and Alex have shared for three years, jostling the N-Sync poster hanging on the wall. It was nothing like the gentler kisses shared for eight years and Mike looks surprised that Kara would have this kind of fire in her, at all._

_And when she speaks, it’s in a language dead to the world save for the few people that remember it._

_“We’re supposed to get married, **Mon-El**.” It’s a furious, huffed whisper against his mouth. “I don’t expect you to be faithful, but you should at least honor that. You should at least honor yourself. There’s so much more in you than this. There’s so much more in my husband. There’s so much **more** in you, why can’t you see that?”_

_He looks stunned—breathless—and the fury on his face dies on his tongue when he hefts her further up and her fingers tangle in his hair._

_She loves him more than she knows how to love anyone, and it still doesn’t feel like enough to keep him here, but when he lays her down on the bed and kisses her, she vows she’ll try._

_He leaves for college the next day and she’s so proud of him she nearly bursts, hopping around Alex like a puppy dog without balance, stumbling and skittering along the floor of their Midvale home._

_“He’s going to make something of himself, Alex. I mean it, you’ll see.”_

_“Uh-huh.” Alex takes a bite of her bagel and doesn’t look up._

_“He just…needs a little help to get there.”_

_“Uh-huh.”_

_“He doesn’t know his own worth.” Kara shakes her head and Alex looks up at her, then, bagel hanging from her lips as she sighs. “You’ll see.”_

_“Okay.” She swallows a piece of the bread, looking back down at her textbook, “Whatever.”_

_“You’ll see.”_

\--

“So you’re planning on tackling all of college in two years? Ambitious.”

“Well…yeah.” Kara shifts, a little uncomfortable with the attention, hands jostling glasses as she shrugs—smiles—nose dipping down as a faint laugh rumbles along the edges of her lips. “The faster I can get out of school and start helping…”

“Of course out of everyone in the world I could be stuck in a closet with, it’d be a tree-hugger.” Cat grumbles and Kara hears it, head snapping up to frown. But the girl doesn’t seem to back down from the affronted gaze, almost reveling in it, instead. And that’s when Kara learns that this Cat is a girl who relishes in the ability to flaunt her opinion. “You can’t possibly be joining to actually help. You watched some Saturday Special with Alanis Morisette crooning about _Angels_ , or something, about the  _Corps_ and you—”

“That’s the ASPCA commercial.” Kara cuts her off and Cat blinks before that gaze turns into steel, apparently not used to being cut off.

“ _Whatever_.” A huff through nostrils, “Whatever it was, you probably got this overly romanticized notion of swooping in to save other people because your own life was too boring to—”

“Do _not_ patronize me.” Kara’s jaw clenches, “You're only like...a few years older than me. And you don’t know what I think.”

“I think you’re obviously not adult enough to even think about tackling the world head on. Who do you think you are, _Supergirl_? What would joining the _Peace Corps_ even realistically do? Be realistic.”

“I think one person can make a huge difference in the world, _that’s_ who I think I am. I think that it doesn’t matter what you think of me, that I _can_ make a difference. I can help people who don’t have resources—don’t have access to the things I do, now. I can help do what my parents couldn’t.” It’s impassioned and Kara can’t remember the last time she felt this sizzling fire in her stomach, lapping up her throat to her tongue, but there’s something about Cat’s dismissive _tone_ that bubbles it up out of her. That quakes her clenched hands and makes her believe more in herself just to _spite_ her. She doesn’t even realize the belated slip of her tongue at the end of the sentence and, apparently, Cat pays it no mind, either, before the other girl blinks.

No, instead Cat just looks a little surprised.

“You really mean that.” 

“Of course I really mean that.” Kara huffs, but when she rolls her shoulders back, she smiles. “You know, you can’t just judge people at face value. All of us have experiences. I wouldn’t judge you just because—”

“Maybe you should. There’s something to be said for intuition.” Cat shakes her head. “People always talk about forming pre-emptive opinions like it’s a bad thing. How else do you sort through information? And people? They’re information.”

“People are a lot more than just information. They’re…they’re constantly changing. Evolving.”

“Everyone’s the same at the base of it. Don’t be naïve.” But Cat pauses for only a moment, eyes flicking down to her hands, twirling the pen she must always keep on her at all times like a keepsake and at the sight of it, Kara’s fingers thoughtlessly move up to her own neck, toying with the edge of a necklace. “Don’t misunderstand me. Don’t get me wrong. I…do believe the best in people. I do believe in hope.” A long sigh and when their eyes meet, again, there’s something so intense in Cat’s gaze that Kara might shrink under it if she didn’t feel like it was a test. “Maybe if you believe you can change the world, you can. One woman does have the power to do it. I know I will.”

“I know you will, too.” Kara immediately supplies and the girl shakes her head almost fondly.

“Is blind faith just a commonplace occurrence for you, or something?” There’s a hint of amusement there and the responding laugh is bright—loud—dancing in the small space between them as Kara shrugs in response. Her hand falls over an up-tucked knee, head falling back to rest against a particularly long coat.

“Maybe. My sister always tells me that I want to see the best in people. Usually to my own detriment, I guess?”

“ _That_ I don’t find hard to believe.”

The silence settles far easier between them, now.

“So…you want to be a journalist? That means you read a lot, right?” The look Cat gives her—non-verbally accompanied with a _no shit sherlock_ —makes Kara shuffle a little, trying her best to smile through the hint of nerves suddenly on the edge of her tongue. “What are some of your favorite books?”

That seems to loosen both of their tongues for the second time—a second barrier forged past friendliness into _familiarity_ —a common ground splayed out between them in open white pages. Eventually, neither one of them seems to care about the party, the noise in the background fading into a gentle hum, and somewhere along the line they scoot closer, together. Eventually, Cat’s legs find themselves stretched over her own and their shoulders ease together and neither one of them comment on the fact that they shouldn’t be so comfortable—so close—because it doesn’t matter that they’ve only known each other for a couple of hours.

For some reason, Kara feels like she’s known Cat her entire life.

\--

_It’s six months later that she flies all the way out there to tug him out of bed by his ear and yell at him about his Instagram footage._

_Because boy does Mon-El need constant encouragement._

_"Study. Study. Study!"_

_She manages to convince him to **stay** in college—to stay somewhere he can **make** a difference—and she beams with pride when the conquests and lines of alcohol bottles thin into half-hearted tales of tests and studying. He’s smart—smarter than he’ll ever give himself credit for—and she knows he’s furious with even the idea of applying himself. He slips enough times for her to threaten to go take him on, again, and not wanting to undergo the wrath of his fiancée, Mon-El of Daxam (Mike Matthews of Midvale) finally finds his place in life._

_By the time she’s eighteen, Kara tells herself that it’s only two years until she’ll find her own. Two years until she’ll graduate and enroll in the **Peace Corps** and do her best to keep other countries from undergoing what her own had, lost and forgotten in history books that will never write about it._

_They’ll get married and she'll drag Mike along with her like how she drags him everywhere else and they'll change the world._

_Two years._

_Two more years._

_It's not like anything will happen in-between._

\--

Cat’s head has found the crook of her neck and it’s easy to tuck the girl against her chest, both of them resigned to their fate of dying here before anyone thinks to check a small little tucked away closet by the kitchen.

Not that Kara really minds it so much when that laugh is so warm against her skin.

“No, really—”

“No, no way, don’t believe it.” Cat’s still laughing, hard enough that she needs to grip her side, leaning further into Kara’s stretching arms when she does, the younger of the two splaying out her hands in dramatic effect, imitating an explosion in front of them.

“It just went _boom_. I mean it. We were so grounded.”

“Well that’s what you and your sister get for thinking you could sneak off in the family car.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that an entire family of squirrels ran out into the road. I had no _choice_ but to turn off.” Kara indignantly responds, serious, because what had the alternative been?

“And hit a tower? You're right, it’s your sister’s fault for listening to you and letting you drive.”

Kara laughs, “Okay, maybe.” She assents, remembering how long she had pestered her sister--hours and hours if not days on end -- before Alex had relented.

Alex hasn’t let her drive since.

“It could have been so much worse.” Cat notes, “You two are lucky it didn’t explode with you in it.”

“It almost did.” Kara shifts, a hint of guilt still fresh in her chest, cardigan bunching up on the ground underneath them. “Alex was knocked out cold. I remember being so scared. I had to pull her out of the car and call 911. It’s funny, now, because Alex insists that I would put that family of squirrels over her well-being again in an instant,” She laughs a little, “But…it could have been a lot worse, yeah. We were always getting into some kind of, um…trouble, I guess. If it wasn’t me, it was her.”

“You two must have been hell for your parents to raise.” Cat hums, and Kara wonders when she’d grabbed her hand, finger idly tracing along the lines of her knuckles like a painting.

“After they adopted me, yeah.” Kara shrugs, not explaining that her and Alex weren’t so close in the beginning—not explaining that her parents never would have let her in that car in the first place—not explaining a good bit about her past, yet, because maybe that’s a second trapped in a closet kind of thing. (Or maybe she’s just scared of how much she wants Cat to know). “But, hey, that’s nothing like you trying to track down a drug dealer when you were seven to write an expose on him.”

Cat chuckles, chin tipping back to search the line of Kara’s jaw, like the side-stepped notion hasn’t evaded her—Kara’s learning not much does, not underneath the scrutiny of those sharp eyes—but the mini journalist surprisingly lets it go.

“ _Someone_ had to expose the man for what he was.”

“And that someone was you.”

“Clearly.”

“Clearly.”

They smile, silence again stretching between them and when Cat once more rests her head on her shoulder, Kara finally listens to the soft din outside, party still going strong. Or at least the music is. Cat settles against her shoulder and she’s not sure why she even asks—

“Hey, do you um…do you want to dance?”

Kara blinks, remembering what Alex always said about her thinking before talking.

Oh, God, why did she _ask—_

“To techno music.” Even in the dim light Kara can see both of Cat’s eyebrows raise, her tone dry. “In a closet.” Cat doesn’t look away as she drawls it and Kara wishes she would. “Alone.” 

Kara shrugs, glad for not the first time that the darkness of the closet hides the flare of her cheeks, bravado dying on the edge of her throat. “Well, you said you came here to unwind and you’ve been stuck in here with me instead and I—um, well I mean—you—I guess it’s silly but I figured there’s no reason you can’t still dance and it’s not like I’ll judge you if you still want to—”

“Wow, sometimes you really don’t know when to shut up, do you?” But Cat’s standing and Kara scrambles to her feet, after her, ready to apologize like the other girl might leave—like either of them _could_ right now—blinking when instead she rests a hand on her shoulder. “We don’t have enough space for much. Guess it’ll have to be a slow one.”

“Yeah.”

Kara doesn’t bother hiding her relieved laugh, brows knitting when she steps closer because she’s only ever been lead, not lead herself, but Cat starts moving and suddenly Kara doesn’t feel like it matters. Because their bodies thoughtlessly slot together as they sway to the obnoxious bass beat in the room outside, Cat’s arms wrapping around her neck, the nerves fading away at the soft smile that tucks up the other girl’s lips.

This is what it feels like, isn’t it? _This_ is what it feels like, a rush of monarchs dive bombing in her stomach and her heart skipping with every beat shifting their feet.

“I’m…sort of obvious, huh?” Kara finally asks, quiet as Cat’s nose slots against her neck.

“Oh, yeah. Very.” But there’s a hint of a smile against warm skin—Kara swears she can feel it, “But I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Kara breathes out a shaking breath, expectations and reality and _obligation_ flooding away with it for the first time in ten years.

“Okay.”

“Just…don’t stop dancing.” Cat whispers and Kara has no problems complying, hands sliding down to wrap around a waist, eyes sliding shut as they move. 

This is what it feels like, and there’s another promise she made that she intends to keep.

\--

_“ **chahv kir**.” Astra calls around the corner, the sound of laughter dancing along the walls in trilling piano notes and the young girl perks up and tries to scurry away, back up the stairs she’d snuck down from, but the effort is futile because she only makes it two steps before her aunt wraps arms around her waist and picks her up like she used to do when she was little—she’s seven now and shouldn’t be picked up so easily—but her squeal of laughter joins the pianos, regardless, when her aunt whirls her in the air like a plane. “You are supposed to be sleeping!”_

_“But everyone was having—” The protest is cut off by laughter and she looks up, sheepish, at the sound from the top of the steps, Mon-El’s scruffy locks coming into view for only a second before he runs up the rest of the stairs, abandoning his friend and fiancée to her fate. “Everyone was having fun and I just—”_

_“Ah, just you?”_

_“Yep!” Kara emphatically nods even with Astra holding her up in her arms, eyes a little wide. They grow wider than their cat’s saucers when Astra’s slit in response. Uh-oh._

_“You don’t lie to me, Little One.” Astra tutts a clever tongue against the roof of her mouth and Kara’s shoulders sag despite the fact that she’s still being held, eyes nervously looking towards the stairs before they settle on her other best friend in the universe. “It’s brave to cover for your friends—especially a little Daxamite boy who won’t cover for himself,” It’s groused and Kara won’t understand the annoyance—the over-protectiveness—for years, but in the moment Astra just plops them both down on the nearby step, tucking Kara close to her chest. “But family comes above all. And we’re friends, are we not? You should put great trust in me.”_

_“Sorry **Aiahv**.” It’s properly chagrined, head hanging, but her aunt’s gentle fingers—calloused and rough from planting and fighting—tuck underneath her chin and their eyes meet._

_“Never apologize for protecting someone you love. Just know I’d never hurt you. It’s a lesson you should learn, even young. Besides,” A long-suffering sigh, bouncing Kara up on her knee until the girl hops off. “That stupid boy is your **betrothed** , now. Whether or not I like it, you’ll both be causing far too much hell together.”_

_Kara laughs, a little scandalized, but that’s one of the reasons she loves her aunt. She never makes her feel like a child—never candy coats—and it makes the ring hung around her neck feel less like a burden and more like an…honor. It’s difficult to hide the surprise when her aunt drags her towards the festivities, the sound of laughter and music growing louder and louder with every footfall. Non is leaning against the edge of the large glass windows of their living room as her mother and father play the piano, dancing and singing. Rhea and Lar Gand surprisingly dancing and laughing with them, the union between the Daxamites and the Kryptonians still timid. Still new._

_After all, it’s only been two weeks since best friends were announced to be engaged. But music, Alura always insisted, could bring anyone together across their differences, and it seems to do its job, now._

_There’s other diplomats in the house, all twirling and dancing and laughing, and when Astra meets Non’s eyes, he raises a hand towards them both with a wink and Kara smiles, squeezing her aunt’s hand._

_“Can I stay and dance?” Kara tugs her down, whispering into an ever-attentive ear, and Astra hums in the back of her throat with a gravelly chuckle, knees cracking as she squats down to her level, fingers brushing through her hair._

_“I’m afraid not, Kara.”_

_“Oh.” Her nose ducks, scrunching, and those fingers once more tuck up her chin._

_“You cannot stay. But I said nothing of dancing. Why don’t I dance with you around the corner? It will be just us.”_

_“Really?” Kara squeezes both of those large hands until the older woman laughs, both of their feet pattering along white wood, the sun far set and the laughter and music carrying them towards the small study around the corner. “What about Non? Shouldn’t you be dancing with him, Astra? Like I should dance with Mikey.”_

_“Mon-El.” Astra thoughtlessly corrects, but her voice and eyes—normally so stern—are kind. “You understand how I told you there was nothing wrong with protecting someone you love? And how you both—you and your betrothed—would always cause trouble?” Kara nods her sharp understanding, head bobbing up and down feverishly—almost enough to knock off her glasses—and Astra fondly tuts her tongue before straightening the pair on the bridge of a nose. “You don’t always have to choose your husband, Kara.”_

_“What?” Kara blinks, brows knitting as her fingers idly reach up to her neck. “But…but I thought—”_

_“Oh, shush. We’re strong women. Generals.” Astra reminds, patting Kara’s young heart like that’s where the source of the word lies—the strength of it—before tugging Kara closer and catching her hands. “Marriage is not everything, Kara. There’s duty and life. But, most importantly, love.”_

_“Love?” Kara breathes the word, something wistful and **painful** in her chest, too young to understand why it clenches so tightly._

_“Oh, yes.” Astra hums, slipping into their native tongue: “And I love you most of all.”_

_“ **Aiahv.** ” Kara beams, ignoring her aunt’s formal gesture of hands for dancing to wrap them around a tall neck, leaping up to tug her down into a tight hug that makes the normally unflappable woman stumble, chuckling as her arms wrap around her waist. “I love you, too!”_

_“Someday, I hope…you’ll understand love, too. Not just obligation.” She pulls away, cupping her niece’s cheeks and Kara doesn’t understand why her Aunt’s eyes are suddenly a river of emotions, water brimming along lashes as she holds her, “Promise me you’ll try to find it, someday. Above all else. Treasure it, **Chahv Kir**.” _

_“I promise it, **Aiahv**.”_

_“Good girl.” Astra nods, running a loving thumb along her cheek before she tugs her close, the music settling over them as they dance. Lips brush over Kara’s temple and she sighs, eyes fluttering closed as she smiles and listens to the sound of a nation outside of their doors dance in harmony and laughter, held safely in her aunt’s arms._

_“You’ll make a fine general someday, Kara. Far better than a fine wife.”_

_Kara beams up at her and their eyes twinkle and for some reason—for some reason—it feels like the world’s greatest secret as they smile._

\--

“So…do you do this for all the girls?” Cat practically _purrs_ against her neck and Kara swallows, not stopping the soft swaying despite the hint of nervous laugh caught in her throat. She’s certain Cat might be able to feel it trapped there. “Trap them in a closet and try to sweep them off their feet.”

“Hey, you bumped into me, remember? But I…” Kara futilely argues, “I don’t do this with anybody.” A beat, “I’ve, uh…I’ve only ever been with one person. That’s kind of…I don’t know. I don’t think it’s sad, but sometimes people look at me all…weird when I say that.” Kara laughs a little, nose scrunching, “But I was with him since we were thirteen. Well, longer than that, really, but my—our parents…they wanted us to get together, so we did.”

“Well, if I did everything my parents wanted me to do, I’d probably be dead. At least my Mother. Sometimes parents don’t know best.”

Kara blinks because they’ve talked a bit about Cat’s mother, already, but Kara still has no clue what to do with that level of hatred towards a living relative, since she doesn’t really have any, outside of Kal-El. “I…okay, I’ll admit, I don’t really know how to respond to that.” Surprisingly, Cat laughs, both of them sharing a sly smile. “What about you? I could argue you’re trying to sweep _me_ here, you know.”

“By try I think you mean that I’m succeeding.” There’s that victorious smirk on Cat’s lips and suddenly Kara’s mouth feels a little dry, even when her eyes dip, a little shyer than Cat might expect herself to be from the way her voice suddenly husks: “I’ve had a few boyfriends. One was…longer than the others. Joe. I…had a scare last year when he moved away—he moved to Metropolis—and I didn’t…we didn’t work it out. Everyone else…everyone else always leaves. If not eventually, they always leave in the morning.” There’s a beat, Cat’s eyes skimming along palms like she can trace her own lifelines when she pulls away and Kara feels the distance, immediately, “I…” Those eyes dart upwards and settle on Kara, like she’s a little in awe but utterly unwilling to admit it, “I don’t know why I told you that.”

“I’m glad you did.” A little breathless, trying to think of the right words to say and settling on the truth, instead: “I’d…like to learn everything about you, Cat. Is that—is that weird?”

“A little.” The girl concedes—laughs—but there’s something soft in her gaze, “But not…entirely unwanted. I guess.”

“Oh.”

Both of them tuck their teeth in their lips in a nervous gesture in unison and Kara thinks Cat wears it far better than she ever could. Wears nerves like a tight-fitting black dress that her fingers long to itch along the hem of.

Boldly—sinfully—Kara suddenly wants to help relieve Cat’s lips from her teeth with her own.

“So you’ve…never been with a girl, then. Have you ever thought about it?”

“I am right now.” Kara immediately supplies and then slaps a hand over her lips with a faint laugh, thankful for the dim light of the closet that covers her blush, something that only deepens at Cat’s low, surprised laugh.

“Well I can’t blame you. I _am_ hot. Especially in this dress.” She steps closer and Kara wishes she’d cross the distance faster because suddenly her knees shake and she’s not sure how to move, “Brazen is a good color on you, Kara.” 

“I was just being honest. You’re…” Her hand raises and hesitates along the lines of a jaw, hovering without touching, “You’re beautiful, Cat.”

“Oh.” And Cat’s biting her lower lip, again, eyes searching Kara’s before they dart down to her mouth and back up. Fire— _fire_ —burns like a nation in Kara’s stomach. “I really never thought younger was my type.” But she’s leaning closer and Kara swallows.

“And now?”

“Now I…I don’t know. I’m thinking about it, too.”

“Could you—would it be alright if I—” Kara sucks in a sharp breath before letting it out, calming herself because she shouldn’t be doing this _at all_ , but suddenly she doesn’t know how she can do anything else, “Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

So Kara stops asking and _does it._

\--

_“Is it…different?” The question is quiet and barely laced with the insecurity that fills her stomach. It rolls in her chest like a fast, boiling pot of water, sometimes, how it feels when she looks at him._

_“Being with other girls?” He finally asks, rolling over onto his side, thumb smoothing along the ridges of her ribs where a scar sits. She’d climbed onto the top of a tree when she was ten and his youthful, bragging voice yelled down to her to jump—that he’d catch her—and she had. He’d caught her, but both of them wound up with matching scars from a nearby tree branch that caught them both just as happily along their sides._

_“Yeah.” Her swallow is thick—tight—brushing fingers along the ridges of his knuckles so that she doesn’t have to look into his eyes._

_“It’s different.” He murmurs, eyes concerned because he knows she doesn’t usually like talking about it and even Kara isn’t sure why she is, shrugging a little._

_“In the books…in the books they always…they always make it seem like this…magical thing, you know?”_

_“Oh.” Mon-El shrugs, flopping onto his back and tenting out his arms and she nestles on top of them, both up them looking up at the stars. The fields of Midvale spread out all around them, the wind rustling the small blanket they’d stolen from the laundry room, and he’s quiet for a long moment before he murmurs: “It’s nothing like that. Like in your books.”_

_But it’s not like that with her, either, she knows._

_“Do you think we’d know it? If we ever found it. Do you think…” Her fingers brush down the line of his chest, “Do you think it’s even real?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_The question makes her think too much of her aunt, so she stops talking and kisses him, instead, insisting this must be enough, anyways._

\--

It’s different.

It's different with  **Cat.**

It’s different in all of the ways she never knew it could be. Soft where Mike is rough—gentle where Mike is unrelenting—pressing where Mike is timid—consuming where Mike is… _there_. Kara kisses Cat and she feels like she’s flying. She feels like her body lifts off of the ground and slowly ascends towards the heavens and when those fingers raise up to brush into Kara’s hair, she feels like she’s on _fire_. And she’s so certain she’s never truly been kissed before, before this moment, because it’s nothing she’s ever known, at all.

Cat _kisses_ her, doesn't just humor her—Cat’s shaking, gentle touch _consumes_ her until they’re both breathless in a simple brush of lips, however gentle or unassuming it is, and when they pull away Kara slumps forward, her whole body chasing after lips like a shooting comet’s tail chasing a planet in the sky.

It's chaste, really, all things considered—timid and gentle and almost… _loving_ , for two people who don’t know each other, at all, but have suddenly known the most important pieces of a puzzle in the past few hours—and she’s never felt anything like it.

She’s never felt anything like Cat.

“Wow.” It’s a murmur, eyes half-lidded when she blinks to take in Cat’s parted lips, eyes still closed. It’s another second until they bat open, a little dazed, herself, and Kara boldly runs her hand down a sternum to brush fingers over a skipping heart behind her new friend’s chest.

Is there a label for someone who you’ve only just met and kissed and don’t ever want to stop kissing? Friend doesn’t seem appropriate.

“That was…” Cat trails off—darts a tongue over suddenly dry lips—breath sucking in and out with two sharp pulls of a knife. “Okay, that was good.” Adding, like she doesn’t like admitting good things so easily, “That was a good start.”

“Very good.” And suddenly Kara feels _alive_ , that hand finally coming up to cup the other girl’s cheek, marveling at the feeling of soft skin. Marveling at the way Cat leans into her like she wants to be touched—held—kissed again. “Can I—”

“For fuck’s sake, you’re not going to ask for permission every time, are you?”

“I—” Kara blinks, but the words are cut off by Cat’s mouth, kiss suddenly far more pressing, stumbling backwards and barely catching both of them from the momentum, crashing into the coats on the wall with a muffled thud, her _hmm_ of a noise lost against an insistent mouth.

Cat doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest, arms looping around her neck and tugging Kara down, and suddenly she understands what all of those books meant about falling in love.

It doesn’t feel like falling, at all.

It feels like flying.

\--

_“You don’t want to, do you?” Kara sighs, knees tucked up against her chest, palms pressing into her eyes because it still burns up her throat in a way she can’t help._

_“Hey—Kar, Kar, come on. You know I…” His sigh is tight, hand scrubbing over his face, “You’re it, for me. I love you.”_

_“Mike.” Kara protests, tone sharp—_

_“No, I mean it. I love you.”_

_“Mon-El.”_

_“So what if it’s not like…like those stupid books or the shows or—or—whatever! You make me want to be better.”_

_It’s softer, crumbling, “Mon-El…”_

_“You make me glad I didn’t stay with them, Kara.” His eyes close, “I’ll repay you for the rest of my life, if I have to.”_

_“It's not me. We owe it to them.” She whispers, gingerly sliding a ring back onto her pinky. “We owe it to them.”_

_“Yeah.” Mon-El swallows and his charming, spreading smile doesn’t meet his eyes, “Yeah, we owe it to them.”_

\--

When someone finally opens the closet, neither of them scramble up towards it, though they do pull away to blink, disheveled faces turning towards the light. The _bright_ light.

Sunlight.

The obviously drunk partier makes some snide comment that seems to stir Cat back to life, the small little spitfire flinging upwards with a wagging finger in the boy’s face. But the slew of words don’t seem to register with him--it seems to take more brain power than he possesses to focus on the finger in his face stumbling backwards to catch himself on the doorway as he does--and that causes Kara to scramble upwards, herself.

The glasses on her face are askew and her lips are bruised when she wraps an arm around Cat’s waist, physically pulling her back and stepping between the two in case the drunk guy decides to get violent from the verbal assault. But he looks like he still doesn’t understand it, let alone register it, and she catches him before he can fully fall, immediately moving to help him sit on a nearby barstool by the kitchen island. It’s only after he’s settled that she turns around to take in the carnage that was the frat house the night before, the steady, timid sunlight spilling in through the open windows.

It’s like a drunken battlefield.

There’s cups strewn everywhere and even more bodies littering every surface, music still thumping along despite all of the occupants either passed out or gone.

But that’s not the aftermath of the party that Kara lingers on. She turns around to see a small Cat, whose hands are curved disapprovingly on her hips, eyes slit and lips bruised. Golden hair tousled and her outfit has obviously been mussed by Kara’s hands and a beating, bleeding Kryptonian heart drops down into her stomach, stepping forward, suddenly not caring about the party, at all.

It should be sobering, seeing the after-effects of potentially poor life choices. She should pull away and find Mike (untangle him from whoever he’s with—whatever bottle he’s fallen next to) and go study. She should throw herself back into her old life in the sobering hours of daylight, but instead her fingers curve along Cat’s cheek with a dry swallow.

She’s amazed when Cat leans into it, because the other girl should really put a stop to this for both of them, shouldn’t she? But despite appearances, Kara’s learned one thing about this Cat that is the one striking common ground between them: she follows her heart, too, to the end of the Earth if she has to, and there’s no denying—

Oh, there’s _no_ denying—

Kara kisses her in the daylight, the air open and free around them, no longer stuffy and restrained, and Cat gasps against her.

Maybe Cat thought she would pull away, too.

She kisses Cat until fingers curl in her braided hair and nails rake against her neck before those same hands skim down bare arms to curve in elbows.

“Come back to my dorm.” It’s murmured against her mouth and Kara swallows, nervously looking up into dark eyes, so clear and so _green_ in the morning sun. The base is still thudding along, drowning out everything but her heartbeat and the words dancing warmth against Kara’s lips. “I don’t _do_ this, Kara, and I know that sounds…God, that sounds so cliché, even just hearing it, but I don’t. I do not just invite people back to my room, but I am inviting _you_ back. I am definitely inviting you back to my room.”

“I want to. Oh, I want to.” Kara breathes. “I can think of…of a thousand reasons why—”

“So can I.” Cat cuts her off, “But I want this, anyways. And when I want something…I don’t see the point denying myself, do you?”

“No.” A shuddering breath, tumbling between them when Cat’s nails rake down her arms and settle on her hips. “No, I really don’t, right now.”

Kara figures that the walk back will give Cat enough time to sober up even though she knows the other girl only had half of a beer all night—enough time for both of them to come to their senses—but the entire time she feels her pulse racing out of the hand that’s twined with writer's fingers and can’t bring herself to pull away. It should be silent. It should be awkward.

But instead they keep talking the entire way there. They talk until they get to the dorm building—they talk until they pass the tall RA nodding curiously towards them (with a lingering gaze on Cat, like she’s almost surprised)—they talk until they get to the door and then they talk some more, the birds starting to chirp in the air and the wind rustling through both of their mussed, tangled hair.

Keys jangle and the lock clicks, door barely parting open.

When the laughter and conversation settles like a goodbye between them, Cat’s small shoulders leaning against her dorm room door, keys twirling idly around her thumb like a pen might, Kara doesn’t know how to pull away.

She should pull away.

But she steps a little closer, instead, hands flexing—clenching and unclenching—before they settle on slim hips.

“I guess I don’t mind that party, all of the sudden. It did…lead me to you.” Teeth tuck at a lip as Kara leans downwards and for once, the rest of the world fades away. No expectations from her family—from Alex—from Mon-El or their wilting promise—and the most surprising part of all is that it’s just Kara Danvers standing here that’s so bold. It’s just Kara Danvers who wants to make this choice—wants to do this for _her_ —to trace the curve of Cat’s jaw until she memorizes it.

“If you…invited me in, I would say yes.”

“Oh, well I…had no doubt about that.” Cat whispers but her fingers barely tremble as they raise up to skim along the dip of an elbow towards a bicep—to run a nail just along the outside edge of Kara’s blouse in a way that makes both of their breath catch against parting lips.

“And if…I stay,” A tongue darts out over dried skin, close enough to almost touch Cat’s lips, and when it retreats back into its home, Cat leans up into her like she’s hoping she’ll do it again if just to catch a hint of moisture against her teeth. “If I stay, I would love to have breakfast with you. Tomorrow, I mean…I won’t go anywhere. And would…” Their noses barely brush, nerves settling between them, deciding that the words say enough: “I would like to have breakfast with you. And lunch. And maybe dinner.”

She’s tired of making promises she doesn’t want to keep—this is a promise she knows she’ll keep. This is a promise she _wants_ to.

“I’ve…never done this before.” Cat confides, “I’ve never even thought about doing this before.”

“Me neither,” Kara’s quick to reassure, “Well, I mean, maybe thought, but I…well, I just—”

“Yeah.” Cat agrees, but neither of them move and when Kara lets out a heavy breath, it breaks against her new acquaintance’s lips.

“Yeah.”

Their eyes meet.

“Fuck it.” Cat seems to decide before the hand curved along a shoulder falls down to roughly tangle in the fabric of Kara’s tank top, tugging her forward until their mouths meet in a far sloppier mess than the tentative brushes an hour before. It’s wet and tastes like cheap beer (and something else) and when Cat’s hands hungrily raise to curl in her hair, finally tugging a braid out, it feels _perfect._

It feels _perfect._

A kiss shouldn’t feel like this. A kiss has never felt like this—like this contradiction of frantic heartbeats trying to find each other in rhythm; like two different songs are playing between them, but then Kara presses Cat against the door and their bodies slot and their heartbeats sync up in tempo and…

And, oh, Cat _groans_ and it’s _music_.

The door pushes open and they stumble inside and Kara doesn’t open her eyes to learn what Cat’s small dorm might look like because she knows it’s bigger than hers.

Instead, she learns what it’s like to catch a soft lower lip with her upper one—what it’s like to lose the strength of her knees when teeth tug at her own—what it’s like to feel hips arch up against her in a _yearning,_ restless ache. Like she’s _wanted_. And Kara’s never felt fire like this, before, sudden and consuming and devastating. She’s used to a slow burn of a simmer that never quite resolves, but nails rake at her skull—drag down her neck and bury in restless _vices_ at her shoulders—and suddenly Kara’s whole body is an _inferno_. It’s blazing up from her stomach to her searing lungs to her clenching fingers and they’re lucky that Cat had left the door open because she’s not sure she can stop and it isn’t long before Cat is pressed up against another wall somewhere inside this small space.

Kara can’t breathe and it feels like she’s losing something almost _intrinsically_ more important than air when their mouths rip apart, a mewling, desperate noise breaking from her lips when Cat’s mouth trails sloppily down from her lips to her chin—her cheek—her jaw—but she’s full of precision when her teeth tug against a sensitive earlobe and a tongue slowly, teasingly, smooths along her ear.

Another noise leaves Kara’s chest, hips pinning Cat a little harder against the wall, and before she realizes what she’s doing, she’s pressed wrists there, as well, both of their bodies panting in a push and pull that hasn’t quite registered. Because she wants a moment to look at her—to see her.

To see the way the morning hue filters through drawn blinds and paints Cat’s hair like a sunrise; to see the way those lips part with a gasp, tongue that had just curved along Kara’s ear dancing along a lower lip, a hint of moisture and sunlight's rain caught against the glistening surface; to see the way hazel eyes shift to something irretrievably _dark_ that _Kara_ has pulled from inside of a stranger’s chest; to see how _beautiful_ she is, dress rumpled and eyes vulnerable.

Kara snaps a hand up to shut the door because suddenly she doesn’t want anyone else to see Cat like this, the sound of a door shutting lost against the dangerous rampage of her heart and, oh, Cat doesn’t let her go far.

“ _Kara_ ,” It’s husked in warm, racing breath against that wet lobe and Kara would suddenly give Cat anything she ever wanted—anything she ever asked—just for a chance to hear that again. Nails rake down from wrists to shoulders to tremble over collarbones, eyes darting down to covered breasts and up again. So she tells her, stumbling against the words because the heat shoots straight _through_ her—

“Say my name again. Please, say my—”

“Make me.” Cat challenges, hands so sure for someone that’s never done this before (but maybe it’s the same principle as with someone else, isn’t it? Even if this feels like nothing Kara’s ever even dreamed, let alone done) snapping up to curl defiantly around wrists but slowly— _slowly_ —guiding Kara downwards to the faint hemline of a short dress. Kara swallows when her fingers skim along hot skin for the first time, but it doesn’t stop because Cat keeps pushing her hand up and as transfixed as Kara is by the journey, when her eyes flick upwards to see the other girl almost _nervously_ biting her lower lip, eyes almost _black_ they’re so lusting, Kara’s knees almost give out the rest of the way.

_Make me._

It’s a challenge and for some reason, Kara feels like she’ll arise to it. Exceed it, just for Cat, and suddenly her hands are cupping breasts over a bra and Cat is arching _into_ her, gasp panting in her ear, and Kara tucks her own chin in order to catch an open, hot mouth, tasting the way she moans when her hands cup a little firmer.

Cat’s hands hastily tug at the tanktop that had rested underneath a cardigan (happily forgotten at the party, crumpled from misuse underneath the weight of their bodies) until the fabric hastily dragged up between them causes their lips to break apart.

Kara can’t help her desperate laugh when the tanktop gets tangled and stuck on her head, Cat’s laugh joining her when it takes both of them tugging and rearranging to finally pull it free, taller blonde impatiently tossing it down on the floor like she’s taught it a lesson. It makes a nice contrasting lightness to the dress dropped there a moment before and the shorter of the two’s face curves into something almost fond as she straightens out the collateral damage of hair that had been caught up in the tangle.

Brushes blonde from blinking, softening blue eyes.

Their eyes meet—Kara a little sheepish—catching Cat’s fussing hands with a spreading, soft smile, brushing lips over a palm in a way that makes a breath hitch against her. When their eyes meet, again, it feels heavy and the second kiss is much slower, Kara’s palms lowering to smooth up the skin of a clenching stomach—to once more curve along breasts—back arching as long fingers slowly start on the button of her pants, tugging aching hips closer with each yank and pull.  

“Should we…” It’s a broken gasp when Cat’s fingers tug the fabric down tilting hips, fingers hooking in the line of fabric unveiled underneath. (And, oh, thank God she wore something cute, today). Nails skim along her hips like a writer skimming the thin, sharp line of a fountain pen along the white canvas of a page and Kara _shudders_. “Shouldn’t we be in a—God, I’d like to…I want you on a bed.”

Normally she would blush at the sound of it—at the turn of phrase—but it’s suddenly the _truth_ because now all she can imagine is the gasp Cat lets out against her cheek rolling against her bare shoulders and—

“ _Yes.”_ Cat’s voice is silk and her next tug on pants is _rough_ until the fabric pools about Kara’s thighs and there’s something beautiful about the way she elegantly slides down onto her knees, nails dragging the scratching denim down hot skin until it’s a puddle by both of their feet, trailing slow kisses back upwards. Wetness skims along calves—thighs—hips—a tongue dips in a navel and Kara’s fingers curl desperately in hair—between breasts—a neck—and she can’t _take_ it, anymore, catching Cat’s mouth with her own.

Teeth tug on a lip and fingers scratch nails down the expanse of heat and Kara can’t _breathe_ , anymore, but that doesn’t stop her from pulling away to trace teeth on a neck, desperately sucking when she feels the way Cat’s hips arch up into her.  

“Bed. Bed, right—Down the—oh, down the—don’t stop. Don’t—shit, that’s. That’s— ”

Their bodies collapse on top of aching springs with an inelegant squeak but Kara is too busy memorizing the way Cat’s legs clench around her waist when she pulls down the fabric of a bra to trail a testing mouth down to a breast and she almost bites too hard when Cat’s hand, never one to be outdone, chases fire and sweat down her abdomen to smooth down the wetness between legs.

They’re learning, now. Clumsy and wanting and…God, it’s not perfect, but it feels like it is.

Kara makes Cat say her name, again, broken with teeth biting at a shoulder as heels press in the dip of a curving back.

Cat makes Kara beg the response with desperate fingers curling in the fabric of a pillow that smells like perfume and ink, body raising prayers off the bed to the noon sun.

Perfect.

It feels like a piece of Kara’s heart was missing until Cat’s breath and smile and moan and arching back filled it.

The afternoon sun slowly starts to lower itself from its once-brilliant expanse of blue, gingerly painting the pale lines of tangled bodies in reds and purples and yellows. Eventually, their bodies sag and Kara Danvers learns what it’s like to watch Cat smile so lazily that she looks like she was _born_ in mussed sheets.

Kara knows.

Kara knows, without a doubt, that there’s something she’ll have to do tomorrow morning.

Cat’s thumb idly skims along a ring of untanned skin, juxtaposed with the rest of it, curious and unknowing. And Kara’s never felt so liberated in her entire life. Not since a fire between lost nations—not since she took on another name and another home.

Tenderness curves a spine when she leans down and gently brushes lips over the thumb painting her and hazel eyes widen, surprised at the motion before a brilliant, soft smile spreads across features.

So Kara kisses her, again, soft and slow and testing, easing the other girl back into the sheets with a happy sigh.

They have all the time in the world.

Kara made many promises when she was thirteen, before the sun and the ocean and her fiancé took her. Before she grew up and decided to save the world in a way her family never could.

But there’s one promise that sticks against her ribs, even now—the one she made her aunt, both of them dancing underneath the sound of laughter and pianos and _harmony._

This is the moment when Kara Zor-El stops focusing on the past—stops focusing on the promises of a nation and a family lost—and starts focusing on the future, instead.

\--

It’s nearly seven at night when Cat stirs and Kara, not wanting to seem _too_ much like a stalker, tries to act like she just woke up, herself.

She mostly fails.

“Morning, sleepy head.”

“Mmm…” Cat rolls into her, nose skimming up a neck to brush along a pulse before lips lazily replace the small prod. And then her tongue. And then her teeth. And Kara is once more arching off the bed and she knows—she just knows—that her neck is going to bruise, fingers tangling in blonde locks, and she can’t bring herself to care. It’s only fair, really, since Cat’s yet to see Kara’s own handiwork painted in angry blacks and purples against her own neck. “Morning.”

“I thought sleep was—oh…” Cat bites down harder and Kara _moans_ , fingers tightening a little harder in reflex in her hair and when Cat lets out a yelp of a noise of surprise, she immediately loosens, but insistent hands keep those digits just as close as they were before and when a chin tips back, blue searches the near-black of her lover’s eyes. “For the slackers.” But the joke, something that should likely be continued, dies underneath a hint of apprehension in Kara’s eyes. “Did you…was that—”

“I liked it.”

“Okay.” Kara nods, filing it away despite the blush, leaning down to kiss her, again. Consuming and full, “I liked…that. The, um—my neck.”

“I know.” Kara laughs at Cat’s curling, relentlessly pleased smirk. “You _have_ had sex, right? I mean, it seemed like you had, but I don’t know if you’re naturally gifted given this whole...sudden nervousness I’m seeing, now.”

“One person, remember?” Kara shrugs, “I don’t know…what you’re supposed to talk about. How I’m supposed to tell you if I—”

“Talking’s fine.” Cat assures, a little gentler, stemming what might easily become a nervous ramble like a pro with her lips and Kara sags into the bed. “Calm down.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologi—”

A ringing phone cuts them off and Kara’s brows knit, confused for a second, before the fear settles in her chest, apologizing profusely before she scrambles off of the bed, searching for the offensive device with nervous hands, listening to it go to voicemail the moment she plucks it up, only a brief flash of a picture catching her eyes before it does.

Mon-El’s arm wrapped around her, nose pressed against her temple, Kara’s wide beam stretched out between them as she’d lifted up her phone, a graduation cap tucked (askew) on her head. He’d blown a raspberry on her cheek the moment she took the picture and idly, her finger comes up to skim along a tan-line outside of the picture, chest heavy before she turns around to take in Cat’s curious look.

She shakes her head, mouth opening to explain—to _tell her_ —before the smaller of the two shakes her head in retaliation.

“Do you need to go?” There’s a hint of steel in that voice and Kara’s mouth snaps shut, immediately dropping the phone back onto the pile, hesitantly sliding back onto the bed, arms stretching above shoulders, watching as Cat practically curls into the sheets underneath her.

“Not before we get that breakfast.” Kara gently offers, serious and far too loving for one night, something in her immediately wanting to put out the nervousness in those eyes. The vulnerability.

And maybe she should tell her, now—tell Cat what she’s decided and why she’s decided it—but there’s nothing to put more pressure on a college hookup than informing someone that she knew she was going to leave her fiancé of ten years the moment their mouths met. It was something long-coming before they ever met, but now that Kara knows what something like happiness might taste like…

“I really should work on my article.” Cat murmurs, but her shoulders barely ease into the bed, hands coming up to curl in hair, and Kara nods.

“I can go find you some breakfast and come sit with you while you do it, if you want. Or leave you alone if you need to work, I just…that was my way of—” Her nose ducks, nerves curling on her tongue even when Cat’s fingers smooth through her hair, “I was trying to say I’m not going anywhere, if you want me here. To stay here.”

“Oh.” It’s a breath from Cat’s lips, the other girl raising up on elbows and taking in a shaky breath before she evenly says: “I think you should go.”

The disappointment settles in her stomach—flashes over her face—but Kara nods, smile slim as it tucks upwards, slowly moving off of the bed and making short work of tugging back on yesterday’s clothes. She’s to the door when she hears Cat’s struggle, turning around to see her pressing hands against her eyes, a furiously frustrated look tugging down lips and Kara opens her mouth to speak, to let her know it’s _okay_ —

“Kara.” Those hands slap down on the bed and Cat flops over on the side of it, scowl warring with something that’s either a grimace or a smile before it eases in its entirety when Cat looks up to see her, Kara’s hand sagging, bag falling down a little as they share a look across a second set of discarded clothes from last night. “I meant…” Cat visibly swallows and her smile is slim—almost hopeful— “I _meant_ …maybe you can go get me breakfast. Or dinner. And then come back here. If you want.”

That’s not what Cat had meant, at all, but Kara beams regardless, so beyond cool with letting it go, crossing the short distance and kissing her so happily that it doesn’t matter how dopey she looks when she pulls away, because Cat looks pretty happy, too.

“I can do that.”

She casts one last look over her shoulder at the sight of Cat sprawled on tangled sheets, naked and painted in the dim light of a desk-lamp that was left on before they ever came in and pushes open the door to night air, breathing in a happy mess of it.

Without a word, she tugs out her phone, immediately dialing back her fiancé with a heavy, conflicted breath.

_“Kara! You okay? I forgot to check on you last night and I—”_

“Mike, I’m…I’m _great_.” She breathes, gingerly cupping the phone in her hand as she heads towards the campus cafeteria. “I’m great. I promise. But…but we have to talk.”

“ _What?”_

“Not tonight, but I—” Eyes flick back towards the closed dorm door before trotting down the stairs, smile and resolve spreading, “We need to talk.”

An hour later, she’s tucked up against the edge of Cat’s bed idly crunching on an apple as she flips through pages of a book, blonde hair sprawled over her lap as a mini-journalist taps away on her laptop. Every couple of seconds, Kara’s fingers skim through her hair, and every couple of minutes, long fingers quietly brush along the line of a tucked knee when inquisitive eyes stop typing to read through what she’s written.

It’s nearly midnight when Kara leaves for the second time to reluctant eyes and teasing words and when the door closes she can _hear_ Cat’s uncharacteristic squeal of a noise. It’s bright and beautiful and _happy_ and Kara trots the entire way home.

Her roommate is gone and Mon-El is sprawled on top of her bed, hogging the majority of it with a snore, but when she crosses the distance and brushes fingers along his shoulder, he lets out a snort of a grunting noise, immediately reaching out to tug her close by the waist. Her fingers brush through his hair before leaning down to run along the line of their joined rings, pressing a kiss against his temple before crawling in next to him.

It's easy—familiar—to settle against his chest and her swallow grates sandpaper against the ridges of her teeth, tears pricking the edges of her eyes as she traces the scruff of his jaw—the dip of a nose broken too many times—and rests her hand over his heart.

Home.

“I’m _sorry_ , _zrh ymin._” And she is, the weight of it settling on her shoulders. “But both of us deserve to be happy, don’t we? Our houses are gone…” A shuddering breath, “Even if it’s not with her, don’t you think I deserve to be happy?”

Mon-El doesn’t answer, just grunts another snore before tugging her closer and her body stiffens before it settles against him, tired body sagging into him with far more familiarity than it does her well-worn springs. Her wraps around her immediately and holds her and he smells like alcohol and cigarettes and sweat and she sighs, because she loves him.

But sometimes love isn’t enough.

“I deserve to be happy.” She decides and almost like a thoughtless blessing in his sleep, Mon-El brushes lips over her temple, their rings happily clinking along his chest, slotting together like maybe they should but never quite have. Instead, she thinks of the slumbering form of one _Cat_ somewhere across campus—the way Cat smiled against her shoulder and poked her side and curled underneath her hands. The way Cat kissed her name underneath the setting sun and chased stars and constellations with her fingers along the freckles of Kara’s back. It’s not the first time she’s cried in Mon-El’s arms in the middle of the night without him waking up to the quiet quiver of her shoulders.

But it’s the first time she wishes he won’t wake up to console her and that’s maybe the most liberating of all.

**Author's Note:**

> My [Tumblr](http://begonefoulsoftdrink.tumblr.com)
> 
> **Kryptonian Translations**; [Source](http://kryptonian.info/doyle/dictionary.html)
> 
>  **Ieiu** ; Mother; **Noun** **P:** [je.ju] **K** :Éú  
>  **Je** ; Sister. **Noun** ; **P:** :[je] **K:** IE  
>  **Zyv** ; Law. **Noun** ; **P** :[zɪv] ; **K:** : zyv  
>  **Zrhymin** ; Husband (Or: Betrothed); **Noun** **P:** [ʒ͡rɪmin] **K **: ZRo}min****  
>  **Chahv Kir** ; “Little One”; a term of endearment.  
>  **Aiahv** ; Aunt.; **: Noun** ; **P:** [a͡ɪɑv]; **K:** åav


End file.
